


Beith

by itsalwayssunnyinforks



Series: Beith [1]
Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Bella Swan with a Backbone, Break Up, Edward Cullen Bashing, F/F, Human Bella Swan, POV Charlie, POV Charlie Swan, POV Leah Clearwater, Sad Bella Swan, Series, fic series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24824263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyinforks/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyinforks
Summary: Birch—the first of the Celtic tree symbols—for the first moon cycle in the Ogham Tree Calendar, known by celts as Beith. A symbol of new beginnings, hope, new dawns, and the promise of what’s to come. . . Bella // Leah new moon era fic series. Instead of calling Billy, Charlie calls Harry about Bella's depression over Edward leaving. Charlie knows that Leah went through something similar with Sam and hopes that the two girls can help heal each other. Extended Series.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Jacob Black/Leah Clearwater/Bella Swan, Leah Clearwater & Bella Swan, Leah Clearwater/Alice Cullen/Edward Cullen/Rosalie Hale/Bella Swan, Leah Clearwater/Bella Swan
Series: Beith [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795570
Comments: 27
Kudos: 78





	1. Hell's Frozen Over

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bella x Leah](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/635590) by shes-a-wolf-in-disguise. 



> Read along playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4CyAP9GDn3EKR1pQYX9bNe?si=oFOuuZ3gSLqL7xVeUS2bQw

_She’s dead_. Charlie's heart bottomed out in his stomach as he saw Sam emerge from the woods behind his house, carrying a despondent Bella in his arms. The night’s fog cleared to make way for his footsteps up Charlie’s lawn, curling back in spirals as if it too knew to fear what was in his arms. She looked so impossibly small and vulnerable there. Charlie had seen enough crime scenes, even in the quiet town of Forks, Washington, to know how this ended. His daughter, barely 18, found dead in the woods. He jogged to meet them, holding his breath. He needed to feel her pulse, see her eyes flutter, anything but the lifeless corpse she was now.

“Bella!” He hoped she would respond to her name, to her father. He clutched her face in his hands for a moment, “Bella, honey, are you alright?”

“Charlie?” His heart bottomed out to his heels in relief. She was alive. He brushed a leaf or two away from her face. She was alive . . . but she didn’t look it. Her face was the palest he’d ever seen it. Her eyes were so hollow he got lost trying to find their life. She was shaking at a violent pace, vibrating in Sam’s arms. It gutted him.

“I’m right here baby.” Charlie had to choke back his emotions, his daughter needed him. He gestured to Sam to transfer her to his arms and he obliged. Charlie faltered for a brief moment, the last time he held her she was only a child, and then began a determined march toward his house. Anger fueled him with ferocious energy. Whoever had done this to his baby girl wouldn’t be alive for much longer.

“He’s gone,” a faint whisper through chattered teeth. Charlie looked down at his shell of a daughter as her fist clutched the front of his chief's jacket. He had a good idea which _he_ she was referring to.

“We’re almost home now, honey.” He had no idea if his words or his voice were reaching her, her expression remained unchanged. Sam had opened the front door for them and Charlie carried her to the couch to lay her down, ignoring her feeble protests. He stopped at the hallway pantry to retrieve two quilts and piled them on top of her after removing her soaked jacket. He couldn’t bare to look at her like that. She hadn’t closed her eyes again but they might as well have been; they bored into the wall, not seeing anything. Her fingers clutched the quilt tentatively, as if her whole body might break into a million pieces if she exert too much force.

He turned to Sam who had followed them in, trying to scrub the image of his broken daughter from his brain, and cleared his thick throat. “Thank you, Sam.” His voice burned with sincerity as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Let’s send everyone home,” they both headed out the door. Charlie turned one more time and wished he hadn’t. Bella hadn’t moved, but it seemed with each passing minute her face got paler and the consciousness behind her eyes dimmed just a bit more. He shut the door behind him but the image was one he would not be able to shake for a long time.

Outside, half the town and then some had gathered. Anyone out searching for Bella had gotten word of her return and was now gathered in a small crowd in his driveway. The rain ricocheted off hoods of jackets as they all looked to him, anxious for word of his daughter’s wellbeing. He was suddenly choked up with emotion for this small and lovely town he had lived in and protected for most of his life. Everyone in front of him was there out of genuine care and concern for him and his family. He braced himself with resolve and cleared his throat once more.

“Bella is alright. I can’t thank all of you enough for what you did for me and my family here tonight.” Charlie realized he couldn’t say much more than that, Bella’s condition was still in question. He glanced at the crowd as Sam took his place next to Harry Clearwater and the La Push group. With a nod from Sam, most of them rolled out. A few Forks locals followed suit, thinning out the caravan of cars parked in front of his house. Many stayed to speak with him personally, offering their help and support. He tried as best he could to keep his face on right, but he felt a headache brew as he scrunched his brow to keep his eyes dry.

He stood in front of Harry Clearwater, the last of the search party remaining and one of his closest friends. If it hadn’t been for Harry putting out the call and bringing the La Push boys up, they might not have found Bella tonight. Charlie shuddered thinking about what could have happened were that the case, remembering all the calls he’d gotten over the summer about animal sightings in the woods. Harry took his hand and pulled him in for a gruff hug. “She's going to be okay, Charlie.” Harry pat him on the back and let him go. Charlie thanked him once more before trooping up the wet porch steps to face what was left of his daughter. He hunched his shoulders against the memories of where he’d last seen a face like hers—staring back at him in the mirror all those years ago.

Inside, the doctor was finishing his once-over of Bella who sat passively on the couch, unchanging except in position. Charlie winced before screwing up his face in the best smile he could manage as he cautiously lowered his weight on the couch next to her, scared if he disturbed her that she'd crumble to pieces. He placed a hand gently on her back before turning expectantly to the doctor.

“She's not hurt.” He heard what the doctor meant in his eyes. She’s not hurt, _physically_. He rose and followed the doctor to the entryway.

“Charlie, I haven’t seen a case of shock this bad in…well I haven’t. I have to be honest, I think you’re in for a long couple of days here.” He adjusted the prescription pad under his arm. “I’m writing her a prescription just in case. You don’t have to fill it, but if you find she needs it…it’s here.” He handed Charlie the folded slip. He took it, feeling numb.

“Is it true? Did they leave?” Charlie had heard the rumors churning from the crowd outside. The doctor grimaced.

“Dr. Cullen asked us not to say anything. The offer was very sudden; they had to chose immediately. Carlisle didn’t want to make a production out of leaving.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” Charlie spat the words, feeling his fists clench at his sides. He reminded himself that Dr. Gerandy was only the messenger and took a deep breath through his nose. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look.

“Yes, well, in this situation, some warning might have been called for.” He looked back toward the living room remorsefully. Charlie did not follow his stare, he didn’t want to see what he knew would be there.

One more thank you to punctuate the endless night from hell and his house and driveway were finally empty. There was nothing left out there but black rain, pounding against the windows as if to get to Bella, knowing she needed something to drown in. He started back toward the living room, not wanting to think about _who_ else was empty. He passed by Bella, happy to see at least that her eyes were closed. Her breathing seemed even, she appeared to be asleep and for that he was glad. He knew from experience, even though he would never verbalize the vulnerability, that the pain dulled in sleep. He brushed her drying hair from her forehead. In sleep, her face almost looked normal. Almost. He could see a line where her brow furrowed, even in her sleep. He traipsed toward the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing the familiar number.

“Hey, Billy, it’s Charlie—sorry I’m calling so—" he looked down at his watch and blinked incredulously, “—early.”

“Not at all Charlie, is Bella alright?” His voice was strained with worry. Billy loved Bella in many ways like his own daughters.

“No, she’s fine. She’s sleeping—”

“I’m so glad she’s okay Charlie, we were all so worried. You’ll let us know if you need anything okay?”

“Thanks, but that’s not why I called.” Charlie sighed. It seemed like ten years ago but it was only early evening, when the search was just beginning, that Mrs. Stanley had called him. That’s when he first heard the news. “I got a call from Mrs. Stanley, and she says that from her second-story window she can see fires out on the sea cliffs, but I didn’t really…” He didn’t really have time to do his job this evening. Nor the mental capacity. Charlie was a broken man all afternoon, not knowing if Bella was alive or dead. Some fires out in La Push were the least of his worries.

Billy chuckled, “Ah, that was our boys. They got a little over excited over the news. Cullens are gone. They’re celebrating.” His inflection grouped himself in with ‘the boys'. Charlie bristled. How could his friend be so cavalier about the loss of the best doctor in town, and the loss of his daughter’s sanity, apparently.

“Oh,” Charlie hadn’t gotten a hold of his knee-jerk anger yet, his irritation slipped into his voice. “And why are they doing that?”

“Oh, you know teenage kids. They’ll use any excuse to start a fire.” His voice let on there was more he wasn’t telling.

“Uhuh,” Charlie waited for Billy to say what he wasn’t saying.

“You know the Cullens aren’t much liked here.”

“Really?” Charlie made no illusion to hide the sarcasm in his voice now. Billy backtracked and sputtered out an apology on the boys' behalf but Charlie cut him off. He wasn’t in the mood for his friend’s patronizing act tonight. “Well don’t apologize to me, I’m surprised they got them lit at all in this weather.” They hemmed and hawed for another minute, Charlie thanked him again and hung up. He dredged back into the living room, grumbling only slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded wrong—hollow. Nevertheless, she was saying something. He rushed to her side.

“I’m sorry I woke you, honey.” He crouched down next to her head.

“Is something burning?” Her nose scrunched up in confusion.

“It’s nothing. Just some bonfires out on the cliffs.” He clenched his fist again. That anyone could be glad the Cullens were gone was a mystery to him.

“Bonfires?” Her voice waned in curiosity, he almost couldn’t bare this more than her not speaking at all.

“Some of the kids from the reservation being rowdy.” He frowned.

“Why?”

He looked to the floor, delaying his answer. “They’re celebrating the news.” His voice betrayed his anger. He saw the pieces connect in her head, she winced as she did.

“Because the Cullens left,” her voice was barely a whisper now. “They don’t like the Cullens in La Push—I’d forgotten about that.”

His anger flashed behind his eyes. “It’s ridiculous,” although it was only an hour before that he had sworn death on at least one of the Cullens. He looked at her, her hand clutching at her chest, eyes vacant. _He_ did this to her.

“Bella?” He did his best to control his tone of voice. She reluctantly met his gaze. “He left you alone in the woods?”

Pain flashed in her eyes for a brief moment. “How did you know where to find me?” She asked incredulously, sitting up. She was seeming more alert by the minute, though the light wasn’t returning to her eyes.

Charlie reached into his pocket, “Your note.” He unfolded it, the paper creased where he held it in his clenched fist, checking it every five minutes to make sure it was still there. Charlie had found the note on the kitchen table when he got home from work that evening. He didn’t think too much of it at first. But after an hour, his every thought revolved around that one sentence note.

“When you didn’t come back, I called the Cullens, and no one answered,” his voice was gruff, getting lost in his remembered panic. “Then I called the hospital, and Dr. Gerandy told me that Carlisle was gone.” He didn’t add on that he sent a cruiser to the Cullens' place to make sure.

“Where did they go?”

“Didn't Edward tell you?” Her eyes flashed in pain again before she could conceal it. His burned with rage. The boy left his daughter in the woods, broke her completely, without even telling her where or why they were going.

“Carlisle took a job with a big hospital in Los Angeles. I guess they threw a lot of money at him.” He frowned. Dr. Cullen didn’t seem the type to be in it for the money. He gritted his teeth and refocused. “I want to know if Edward left you alone out there in the middle of the woods.” He practically spat the name.

She winced, shaking her head. “It was my fault. He left me right on the trail, in sight of the house… but I tried to follow him.”

His anger burned but he kept an even tone. “I’m sorry he did that to you—” before he could get the words out, she was shaking her head again, with her hands over her ears.

“I can’t talk about this anymore, Dad. I want to go to my room.”

He reached out to her, trying to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she scrambled off the couch and upstairs in a rush. With a sigh, he rose and lurched to the kitchen phone again, calling out of work—it was nearly the time he’d be heading out the door. His feet were heavy on the stairs, and he barely kicked his shoes off before falling into bed.

The heavy stress-induced slumber would be the only undisturbed sleep he got for a long time beyond that.


	2. A Drop in The Bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leah, left to pick up the pieces when Sam left her, struggles to source her interest in the Swan girl's recent tragedy.

Leah felt a hitch in her side and she eased up from a sprint to a jog. She slowed even further, taking in the deep grey ocean to her right. The sound of her labored breathing and the rain beating against her lightweight rain slicker were completely drowned out by the sounds of the angered ocean, heaving toward shore. She came up here every other day, rain or shine—though, she preferred the rain. Not only for the way it pummeled the sand into an even surface, easier to fly across, but for the privacy it allowed.

It had been almost a year, but people still gave her that all too familiar look whenever she went anywhere in town. Despite how angry she was, she didn’t hate Sam or Emily. She hated how they had reduced her identity to two words: _jaded ex._ The tide swelled again, hitting the sand with a loud cadence, and her emotions swelled with it. She thought the start of her last year of high school would be different. Sam had graduated and was no longer there to torment her in person with his remorseful eyes and presumptuous manner. She tried to start anew, even forced herself to join the robotics club the first week, but no gossip had come along in their boring town to trump what was now her life’s story. People still stared and whispered in the halls. Freshmen gawked as they were filled in on the drama. Why try? When everyone was already convinced they knew everything about her. Leah spent her days in the backs of classrooms, dreading group projects and resenting the eyes on her in the halls.

She broke out into a jog again, picking up speed as the rain battered against her hood, dripping down her brow where it gathered from hitting her face. She smiled wryly to herself at the irony, leaning into the jaded ex persona by running alone in the rain at the beach. At least no one tried to talk to her anymore. The first year had been brutal with do-gooders and Nosy Nancy's trying to pry their way into her life so they could watch her sadness for entertainment to give them a sense they were the better person. At least their life wasn’t in shambles. At least they weren’t angry at the world. At least they made the effort to help the local sad girl. It bored Leah to no end, so she stopped responding with fake niceties whenever they invaded her space with their sympathetic smiles and presumptuous ‘ _so how are you?_ ’s. She frowned as her legs carried her further away from home. There was one person who probably knew all too well how she felt, even after a year had passed for Leah.

_Bella Swan_. She had heard her name echoed over and over again earlier in the year when she blew into town. Charlie’s only daughter, exiled to rainy Forks from the land of sunshine and cacti. Leah heard the whispers that she was dating a Cullen, ironically enough from Sam. He and his gang were always hanging out in town, or over to see Harry, or at Jake's to see Billy; she could never avoid them for more than a week. Leah heard their judgmental musings and laughed to herself, the way they were concerned with a Forks girl's dating habits. Leah hadn’t heard much more about it since the initial whispers, until the night before.

Her dad had gotten the call last night.

“Charlie—how are ya?” Harry fell into their familiar pattern. “Oh gosh, no we haven’t seen her up this way. Do you want . . .” He shifted his weight and motioned to Leah. She hadn’t realized she stopped what she was doing to listen. “No, no, it’s no problem Charlie. Our boys know the woods better than anyone else. Let me gather the troops and we’ll be over. Hey—we’ll find her, okay Charlie? She’s going to be fine.” His voice was fervent and full of promise. She knew he had been a good friend to Charlie for far longer than she had been alive. Leah wanted to offer to come along, mostly out of curiosity—a curiosity she couldn’t trace—but she knew ‘the boys’ meant Sam, and Sam meant not if Leah could help it. She stayed put, heading out to their garage while Harry started a phone chain to reach Sam and his apostles.

She busied herself in the garage for more than a few hours, time never really existed when she was working on a project. She’d been working on this one for almost six months. It was her and Harry’s baby, a ’67 mustang the local junk yard was about to compact before they found it. She and Seth pushed it across town, easier than they would have thought considering the engine—and by extension the majority of the weight—had dropped out the bottom long ago. Harry had told her she needed an outlet for her negative energy. She scoffed at the implication, but knew he was right. Fixing up cars had been something they had always bonded over, since she was a young girl. She would wait at the door for him to come home and run down the driveway to meet him when his car turned off the street. He’d open the door and scoop her up into his lap, letting her steer while he gassed the car up the short drive to the house. She never noticed the guiding finger he held on the bottom of the wheel. He always cheered as the car rolled to a stop, giving her high fives and lifting her out of the car to spin her around.

He was in the garage every weekend; either fixing up a friend’s car or one of his own. They got her a matching grease monkey suit that was made for a six foot man not a three foot girl. Harry would roll the sleeves and pant legs up so she could shuffle around and bring him a rouge wrench from the tool chest. Harry always took the time to show her what he was doing and even put her hands on the engine and tools to let her get a feel for which tools went with which parts. Leah's eyes alight with a child’s curiosity, she never failed to be in that garage with him every weekend. They became less frequent when Harry tore a ligament in his knee. A long recovery and a difficult injury to begin with made it rough to be crawling around beneath the body of a car. He still worked with her though, getting his hands dirty when he could and instructing her when he couldn’t. It was a hobby that fell by the wayside when her life fell apart last year. The most she could handle were staying alive and staying in school.

Harry didn’t come home until after midnight. He came to check on her and she rolled out from under her mustang.

“Find Swan’s girl?” Again, Leah struggled to source her interest.

“Yeah, she’s doing alright. Pretty shaken up. Cullens left town.” He didn’t need to explain further. For the longest time the Cullens had always implicitly included Bella, even far removed from Forks, Leah knew this. He didn’t sound as thrilled as the rest of the tribe about the Cullens skipping town. Leah had been vaguely aware of the celebration raging in town through most of the night. She heard the whoops and hollers up and down the street as several groups of rowdy teens clamored down to the beach. Leah rolled her eyes; any excuse to light a fire. Harry wasn’t torn up about them leaving, but he certainly wasn’t exuberant. Leah respected him for that.

Harry rapped on the door-frame, “It’s getting pretty late, better finish up here.” He eyed her progress, smiling as he saw the tools sprawled out on the floor. This had been their baby initially, until Leah got frustrated with the old man’s pace and continued it without him when he was too busy. She liked working with him, when he was available to work. Her family were just about the only people she could stand to be around. They never patronized her or handled her with kid gloves. Well, not for a long time at least, but Leah could see the anxious squint to his eyes as his smile turned down. Something he saw tonight must have reminded him of her, a year ago. He cleared his throat and bent down to help her clean up; she let him without protesting.

They continued in silence, putting tools back in appropriate places and a tarp over the exposed engine. Leah hated to admit it but she had put her parents through . . . too much in the early days. She had fights with her mother over not eating enough, fights with her dad over picking fights with people in school. Even fights with Seth, although those were a pretty normal occurrence in any other circumstance, but these were more bitter than joking. She hadn’t been the easiest to handle, but she evened out as her anger turned toward resignation.

Leah trotted to a stop where the beach turned to rocks too awkward for her to traverse across, lining the coast in slate and umber tones, slick with rain. She walked toward the ocean, still in a rage with the storm. There were so many times she stood in this exact spot; the precipice of pain pulling her forward, the promising violence of the black ocean calling to her from the shore. She found a home there, in the beautiful chaos of the tide. It wasn’t a call of temptation anymore as it once had been, but more of an acknowledgment of comradery. They tipped their caps, her raging storm bidding hello and goodbye to that of the sea. This is the place she grew from her pain. She let her inner tide overwhelm her fully, learned every force driving it to crash to her shore, all the while she was crashing with it. She let herself fall apart here, only ever here, with the salt in her lungs and the cold water rushing against her bare toes. Her pain felt tangible when she was standing in front of the unstoppable force of the ocean.

She took a deep breath and launched herself in the opposite direction up the coast, toward home. Bella Swan’s storm must be just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback on my first chapter! Please let me know if you enjoy this & check out my tumblr its-always-sunny-in-forks.tumblr.com


	3. Lumina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is faced with his own painful reminders as he tries to navigate taking care of his daughter.

Charlie woke with a start. It never failed to give him a heart attack, the gut wrenching shriek coming from the room next door every night for the past week. He threw the blankets off and scurried across the cold floor into the next room. She was still screaming, still asleep. He didn’t pause at the bed as he had the beginning of the week, instead he sat down and pulled her into his arms, stroking her distorted face while letting out a calming coo like he used to do so many nights when she was just a baby. If only her troubles were as simple as back then; if only he could help her as easily as he had back then.

The screaming stopped as abruptly as it began, and he knew she was awake. He didn’t let go of her, but kept an arm around her shoulders and a hand on her cheek, wet with tears. They never said a word to each other during these nights, an unspoken rule of the situation in general. The helplessness and anger and pain and frustration and sheer exhaustion washed over him, but he clenched his teeth and stayed put, his thumb wiping away at tears that kept up a constant stream down her face as reality hit her consciousness. She clung to his arm, her fingers grasping as tight as her strength would allow, yet still somehow weak. Fragile—more so than usual.

He held back his own tears at having to watch his daughter fall apart from the same pain that plagued him so many years ago. As if being shocked by electrical wire, it was a tangible pain he could never forget. The sleepless nights—or still even worse—the dreams that she and Renee were still here, only to be devastated in the light of morning all over again when it wasn’t real. . .

Charlie jolted to the distant sound of his alarm coming from the other room. He fell asleep on the edge of Bella’s bed, still holding her. She was gone now, he doubted she slept at all beyond the few hours before her screaming last night. He heard the shower running and got up to stretch his sore muscles and saunter back to his room. The floorboards groaned and he tried not to remember the countless nights of creeping back to his own room after checking on a young Bella, fast asleep after her nighttime story. He laid down to rest for a few more minutes until the bathroom was free, drifting in and out of a haunted sleep. Too soon, the snooze alarm blared and woke him from a cold sweat. Lumbering toward the promise of hot water and fresh hygiene, he tried to shake the dreams of a blue eyed beauty with wild auburn hair, turning to look back as she walked out the door for good.

He heard her puttering around upstairs as he started a pot of coffee. The ritual was his longest standing tradition, and even though he shied away from expensive grinders, complicated espresso machines, or extensive pour over set ups, he still took solace in the few steps to fresh caffeine every morning. He winced retrieving the coffee from the cabinet, the ones Renee had painted yellow when they first got married, that his father had installed by hand years before. Her wild energy leeched into them; in every soft swirl of her brushstrokes, rushed and overdone. All her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets while his coffee brewed to keep from reaching up to run his fingers over the lingering indentation of the ghosts she left behind.

He clutched the doctor’s prescription note in his fist before smoothing it out on the counter and laying it in his place at the table. It had been burning a hole in his pocket ever since the doctor had given it to him, each day that passed without giving it to Bella he felt it grow heavier. He didn’t want to imply she was weak by giving it to her, but he didn’t want her to be needlessly suffering if it could help her. Usually by this time, he was in his cruiser on the way to work—before she got downstairs for school—and he had a feeling that was by her design. Given the way their conversations have been going this past week, he knew she was trying to avoid him whenever possible; to avoid having to fake emotions for his benefit, however poorly. It was as much a struggle for him to witness as for her to put forth the effort. He had a point to make this morning, though, and the screaming combined with his. . . well they could hardly classify as nightmares—drove him to be courageous enough to break their strict ‘No Talking about The Situation' rule.

Unwillingly, memories of his own time in her position flooded back to him. Endless hollow nights, too afraid to sleep in case she called him back. Sitting on the cool floor in the kitchen with his back against the fridge, phone cord straining down to where he sat as he cried on the phone with Harry because he can’t sleep without his wife. Stopping at Bella’s room first every night without fail, even though she wasn’t there to tuck in anymore. Running to every car accident call because _What if it’s the girls?_ Followed by _Dear God, please don’t be my girls. . ._

He considered moving, unable to decide which he couldn’t stand the most: being in the house full of haunted memories or leaving them. Instead, he threw himself into work. The precinct became his new home. The couch was uncomfortable but at least he didn’t convince himself that he could still smell Renee on it, unlike the sheets at home that had been through countless washings yet somehow her scent clung to them, heady like a bonfire on a cool night. His solve rates became the highest in the unit as a result; in a sick way he owed his wife for making Chief.

He knew if she didn’t want to be late she would be downstairs eating breakfast in no more than ten minutes, so he got to work whipping up a batch of eggs for them to share. Never much of a chef, but he learned the basics along the way. He was plating them up much to her surprise when she bounded down the stairs. She hesitated on the landing, and he knew she was debating the odds of making a run for it.

“I know you’ve got to get to school but I’d like to talk to you for a minute,” He didn’t give her the chance. She sat down slowly, sizing up his intentions so early in the morning. Her color still hadn’t returned fully yet, as if she had hypothermia her face and limbs were always two shades lighter than they were supposed to be. Closer to blue than pink. She shoveled the food into her mouth without looking down, he wondered if she could even taste it. Leaning over his coffee mug, he searched the black liquid for all the courage he thought he had.

“I know this has been hard on you. . .” He began, she stared back at him with those hollow eyes. She was processing his words but still not actively listening. “In truth, Bells, I don’t think you know how much I empathize with you.” His eyes retreated back down to his coffee. “When your mother left, I. . . had a hard time.” He saw her tune in a bit, seemingly interested now that he was breaking their unspoken rule. “The things that really helped me get through it were, well, time—of course—but also, other relationships. I don’t mean romantically—just how Harry and Sue and Billy and Sarah helped me out when I felt. . . alone.” He was white-knuckling the edge of the table, forcing himself to say the words.

“But what I didn’t have, or know about, were other types of help.” He fidgeted with the edge of the paper, finally meeting her eyes. “Bells the doctor that was here last week, he gave me a prescription for you, in case you needed it. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was but if you think you’d like to get it filled, that’s up to you.” He slid the paper to her, meeting her cold fingers before she glanced at it numbly and put it back down on the table with a sigh.

“I don’t want this.” She stated simply. Under normal circumstances he’d have expected her to kick up a fuss or even take offense. Although under normal circumstances he wouldn’t be offering his daughter medication. He clenched his teeth to continue.

“Bella, are you sure? I don’t see the inside of your mind of course, but you’re living day to day like you’re the walking dead. You don’t talk to your friends, you don’t talk to your mother, you don’t talk to me—”

“We’re talking right now,” she contradicted flatly. He raised an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean though, Bells. I love ya kid, but I think you need to reach out to people or think about taking that prescription. You should talk to Leah,” He offered.

Her eyes flickered with recognition. “Leah Clearwater?”

“Harry told me she went through something. . . similar to what you’re going through. She’s the one who rebuilt your truck for you, you could at least give her a call to say thank you.” He made a mental note to call Harry when he got into work and ask him how he dealt with this when Leah was going through it. He knew she didn’t have the energy to fight him on this, so considering his work done he got up and gathered his things to leave for work.

After a short drive through his cloud covered town, Charlie headed to his back office to give Harry a call. He shut the door for the illusion of privacy, everyone there already knew or had been there last week to see what had become of Bella. He didn’t meet anyone’s sympathetic stares as he dialed the familiar number.

“Harry, it’s Charlie. How are ya?” He stared at the picture of he and Bella on his desk. He had dragged her on a fishing trip when she was about 10, bought some primo bait to get a big fish on her line to hopefully excite her to the idea of fishing trips with her old man. She’d caught the biggest one that day, couldn’t stop grinning with pride. Neither could he. Even still, fishing trips were limited in the years to follow with awkwardly placed visitations in the middle of summer. Hotel pools and local boring attractions were where they were forced to make most of their memories.

“Charlie—I’m good. How are you? How’s Bella,” He said her name pointedly. Charlie had a feeling he already knew exactly why he was calling.

“Honestly? Not great. She won’t talk with me about it but she’s having these nightmares. . . Wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. I don’t know how to approach this Harry, she’s so young. . .” He winced. When Renee left him he wasn’t much older than Bella, he liked to think that made him better equipped to handle it, but he knew that was a lie.

“Yes, it’s not easy to watch them suffer.” Harry referred to his kids. “I couldn’t tell you how to handle it except from what I’m sure you’re already doing. Just keep loving her, even when she pushes you away. Leah took a long time, but we kept reaching out for her.” His voice turned gruff.

“I hope you don’t mind Harry, but I suggested to Bella that she reach out to Leah, if only to thank her for the work she did on the truck.” He admitted sheepishly.

“No, not at all Charlie. Leah’s a good kid, and she needs a good friend just as much as I’m sure Bella needs one right now. And Bella will be okay, she just needs the space and support to process it her own way.” His confidence won Charlie over and for a minute he thought Harry could be right. Then he remembered how bereft she had looked this morning before she put her mask on and his face dropped.

“Thanks Harry, I appreciate you being here for the both of us.” He only wished it was enough for Bella, to have him there for her.

“Anytime Charlie.” He placed the phone back in its receiver, looking at the only other picture on his desk of Bella, Renee and himself, Bella squished between them. Renee had brought Bella up to Forks to see her grandparents one last time as their health continued to decline. Bella was too young to understand the severity of the situation and was just happy to have her parents in the same room. She was all lit up, her hand tightly entwined with Renee’s, as if trying to hold her in place. _Yeah kid, I wished so too._

The end of the day arrived before Charlie had time to catch up. He found himself back in his cruiser for the last time, making the drive back through town. Without deciding to, he pulled over at a local shop selling various home goods. The same one where he bought Bella's new bedding when she first came to town earlier in the year. The sales clerk had kind eyes when he had no idea what he was looking for.

“Can I help you with something Chief Swan?” She called to him from down the aisle. It was a week before Bella would move home. Charlie had gotten rid of the twin bed of her childhood for one more befitting of a teenager, trying so desperately to make his place feel like a home to her. He still couldn’t believe she’d be here to stay for longer than a week.

“I’m looking for bedding for my daughter, Isabella. She’s coming back to town to live with me.” He couldn’t tamp down the pride in his voice. “Something a 17 year old would like,” he admitted bashfully. The clerk who’s nametag read Gen smiled understandingly.

“Well what color does she like?” A simple question, but it threw him into a panic regardless. How did he not know her favorite color? All the years spent apart had affected their relationship, even though he tried the best he could to fulfill his fatherly role. _But a father shouldn’t be limited to calls once a week._ He tortured himself a moment more before recalling a birthday card she had sent to him a few years ago. Inside she had written a long note detailing how school was going, what books she was reading, and Renee's most recent antics. The exterior was a lovely amethyst color, with silver detailing. He still had it stowed away in the cruiser’s glove compartment; pulled it out when the day was particularly hard to trace every word she’d written to him. Her scrawl looked just like his own handwriting, crabbed and rushed.

The sales clerk kindly ignored his too-long pause when he responded. “Purple. But not that lavender or neon type. The kind that belongs in a sunset.” He gave a confirming nod as he spoke. She smiled once more and led him to the bedding section.

“I know exactly the perfect one. . .”

Sure enough, when Bella got home Charlie reveled in the small success.

“You—you like purple right?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah purple's cool,” she pulled it off much better than him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. _Cool_. Bella thought he was cool. He smiled and left while he was ahead so she could settle in completely.

Here he was again, opening the front door to the trill of the arrival bell. He spotted Gen in one if the aisles, arranging merchandise, she looked up at his approach.

“Hey Gen, how are ya? I’m looking for something for my daughter again.” Her smile was more sympathetic this time, of course she had heard about the depressed daughter of Chief Swan.

“I’m good Chief, sure, how can I help?” She walked up the aisle to begin looking for what he might direct her to.

“Well. . . I’m not sure exactly. Do you know what would make a room more. . . cozy or something?” He gave the store a cursory scan, but nothing jumped out at him.

“Hmm. . . cozy or _something_. . .” She drew out the last word as she headed in the direction her thoughts were pulling her—a small selection of lamps on the other side of the store. She picked up one shaped like a cylinder, a wide base with a tube of canvas surrounding the inner lightbulb. “How about this?”

Charlie didn’t know much of anything about interior design but it looked warm—like the color Bella used to be. “Yeah, that'll work just fine, thank you Gen.” He tried not to think about the way Edward made her light up during his countless nights at their house as he followed her to the register to pay.

 _She will be that Bella again,_ he swore to himself as he completed the rest of the drive home.


	4. Supermassive Black Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella is left to face the stranger she's become, and makes a commitment to visit La Push

Bella jarred awake, not hearing her own hoarse screams until she felt Charlie’s hands on her face, pulling her dreaming subconscious to violently collide with her waking reality. She vaguely registered the constant flow of tears down her face, stopping at Charlie’s fingertips where he wiped them away, but even he couldn’t absorb this tide. She must have stopped screaming because the silence became insufferably loud.

The dream was inevitable in its familiarity, settled into the vacant space he left. It rang with an echo ever since Sam had pulled her from those deep woods, their inescapable clutches dripping with weighted leaves and air so much thicker than the layers of moss covering its ancient trees. In actuality she had never left them. She was still there, even now—wandering aimlessly—gathering the remaining pieces of him left in the shattered remnants of her heart, to grasp onto with her dying strength.

Outside, the storm cried with her. The howling wind mirrored her screams, fluttering the siding as it whipped against the house. Rain, the only constant in Forks—and one that Bella was almost thankful for now—rushed down the windows and gutters. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her, forcing herself to take in deep breaths that clawed at the bottom of her ribs and expanded her chest. The place where her heart should have been seemed an epicenter for a black hole, dragging in anything and everything and absorbing all its victims’ energy. She floated on its surface while the empty blackness seeped into every pour of her skin to settle deep in her bones. At one point she thought venom would be what flowed through her veins to destroy her, make her immortal, make her _his_ , forever. Instead the dark matter flowed through her, collecting any source of light or energy or reminder that she was alive.

She let out a wicked smile, not caring if Charlie noticed and thought she was losing her mind. Maybe when this black hole had satiated itself on everything she had, it would take the pain with it. She lingered on every memory brought to the surface, feeding it willingly to her darkness. The first time he touched her, his hand lingering on her cheek with pain and longing in his eyes, and the way it burned for the rest of the day. Each and every kiss they shared, each and every time he pushed her away. The voice of an angel, her sad and tortured angel, drifting down to her as she writhed in pain from James's venom. She felt like her chest was breaking open, the hole getting bigger. She forced herself to remember his voice with her weak human memory when she told him she loved him and he responded simply ‘you are my life now'. His life. He didn’t mean that for long. _He doesn’t love you. He can’t._ She convinced herself it wasn’t true, let herself believe every word of affection and devotion he spoke to her. Now his words were the edge of the knife caressing her skin before making the plunge that would end her pain.

She felt at home in the black pool, the buoyant current carrying her along its expanse. Diving further, she let his last words out of the box she was keeping them in; the masochistic memorabilia from her tragedy. She held them in her hand floating atop the river, letting them loose into the same tar sticking to her bones and filling her lungs making each breath more labored. Each word raked across her skin, raising goosebumps with their cold sharpened edges. Even worse still—the cold detached look in his eyes when he spoke them.

She sighed as the final source of light, of him, disappeared into a darkness the same onyx shade as his eyes. Just like what those obsidian eyes signaled, the black hole in her chest didn’t relent when it had everything from her. It was still thirsty. Her tears flowed stronger when she realized her mistake. Even though it appeared a black hole, it was still the place her heart should have been. It wasn’t here to take her pain, it was here to keep it.

Her torment was interrupted when she heard a mumbled “Renee” coming off Charlie’s mustache. His face was softened in sleep but still troubled as he slouched against the wall, pillows squished up beneath his shoulders. She hadn’t noticed when he stopped trying to dry her tears and slumped back to succumb to sleep. His arm was still loosely draped around her own shoulders. “Renee please stay,” he pleaded more audibly now. At least now she knew who to blame for her sleep talking. His arm tightened around her subconsciously as he mumbled further about her mother.

It was never a mystery that Charlie had not moved on from his first love. Bella winced, recognizing the all too familiar parallels. Renee blew through Forks on her senior trip with friends when she met Charlie. They quickly fell for what they deemed to be the best of the other. Renee for his quiet humor and responsibility and compassion; Charlie for her eccentric wild spirit, kind eyes and kinder heart. Even the sun on its rare appearances was no rival to her light. She promised to come back on the return trip, and when she did, Charlie capped off their whirlwind of a romance with a marriage proposal. Bella knew the story from Renee’s perspective: an affair too rapid for rational thought, locked down to an underwater town by a husband and baby her first year out of high school. She’d never thought of it from Charlie’s point of view: of a man smitten by his first and only love, given everything he’d ever wanted in a wife and a child, only to have them stripped from him just as abruptly as they came.

She wondered if this would be her in another 18 years. Still lost, bereft, mourning her first and singular love. Her only acknowledgement of his existence being the troubled whisper from unconscious lips, the only time she dare to unlock him from her haunted memories. She heaved a sigh crackled through tar-filled lungs, and gently disentangled herself from Charlie, too remorseful to disturb him from his own painful remembrance. As she resigned herself to yet another sleepless night, she let the movie play once more to feel its hot blade plunge deeper into her heart—looking to the rocking chair that both her and Charlie had raw memories attached to.

When the pitch black turned into dull grey—Fork’s closest impression of sunlight—she slipped from her bed to the bathroom. Each morning that week, she’d begun by washing off the terrors of the night before in hopes that it would make a difference for the day to come. Each day she made the water hotter and hotter, until it was scolding into her skin, burning away any memories of where he touched her. Every time she was faced with disappointment when she exited the steamed shower only to find the cold impressions that he left still ghosting across her skin.

She didn’t linger on her morose reflection in the mirror, she needed no reminder of what he left behind: the ordinary girl too dull for his supernatural world. She gathered her things and headed back to her room, grabbing the first outfit in her closet to slip into as her hair air dried over her shoulders. Time seemed to be her enemy even more now than before when her only desire was to remain 17. It seemed to bend and twist, creating pockets where it ran thicker and slower now that she had nothing left to do with it. She sat in the rocking chair in the corner, curling her feet underneath herself as she stroked the same arm rest he had all those nights ago. That unfamiliar humorless smile made its appearance once more as the memory drove its hot blade deeper. If time was her enemy, then pain was her dearest friend. The only thing letting her know she was still alive, or to prove it had even happened at all. She toyed absentmindedly with the sleeve of her green sweater. Though it still wasn’t cold enough to be wearing winter clothes, Bella found it hard to keep from shivering in the frigid air of her home that wasn’t her home anymore.

She had quite a while until she could leave for school without arriving unreasonably early. She gazed, unseeing, through her window and cringed. Arriving early meant inescapable socializing and she was not ready to talk to her friends yet. Though her entire week was about as clear as the morning fog outside her window, she was vaguely aware of them reaching out sporadically throughout the week. She remembered a hand on her arm breaking through her cloudy reverie—attached at the end to Angela Webber, asking her how she was doing in the middle of their English class earlier in the week. Her eyes held sincerity and compassion but Bella still couldn’t manage to form a coherent answer aside from a throwaway ‘Fine,’ before pretending to concentrate on the lesson. Classes that _he_ had manipulated poor Ms. Cope into putting them in together were now yet another pointed reminder of the life she used to have with him. Even her teachers knew not to call on her anymore, her comatose resting state discouraging them from expecting much of her. Her friends still tried, for now. Jessica Stanley chatted away at lunch, occasionally making the point to ask Bella a related question. Even Mike Newton gave her a pat on the back and a “Hey Bella,” in their US History class. If she was any more aware, she’d hate the attention being directed toward her this week.

Bella had stalled as much as she could by making her bed and finishing some last minute homework before she could not put off going downstairs any longer. Usually she waited until Charlie was well on his way before emerging from her room in order to avoid having to interact with him. The less he saw of her trying to be normal, the better. She was aware that Charlie could see through the cracks in her mask to her broken core, but she hoped it was enough to at least shield him from the darkest parts of her pain. He didn’t need any more reason to feel guilty over her.

She didn’t expect him to be hanging around when she hit the landing, let alone plating up some food. She struggled to put her mask in place, debating how rude it would seem to ignore his gesture and leave for school. He seemed to guess at her train of thought.

“I know you’ve got to get to school but I’d really like to talk to you for a minute.” She set her bag down and sunk into her seat at the table, trying to nail down what his talking points could possibly be. They’ve had a strict rule barring conversations of the _situation_ that she enforced vigorously. He huffed into his own chair, staring into his brewed cup of coffee like he was trying to pull courage from its black depths. Shuffling the tasteless eggs into her mouth provided a sufficient diversion to practice her normalcy. Not that Charlie wasn’t an average cook, but she didn’t derive flavor from any food anymore.

“I know this has been hard on you. . . ” He met her gaze and she tried her best to look attentive. “In truth Bells, I don’t think you know how much I empathize with you.” He frowned and looked back down at his steaming mug, searching for the words again. “When your mother left, I. . . had a hard time.” _Hold on._ She paused lifting the next bite to her mouth. He scarcely spoke of Renee and what it was like for him after she left. She could surmise that it wasn’t easy of course, but it’s a topic they had never broached—similar to the unspoken rule regarding her own breakup that she assumed he was about to break. “The things that really helped me get through it were, well, time—of course—but also, other relationships. I don’t mean romantically—just how Harry and Sue and Billy and Sarah helped me out when I felt. . . alone.” He struggled for a moment, and Bella almost reached out to him, his anguished face so familiar. “But what I didn’t have, or know about, were other types of help.” He seemed to not want to continue, starring back down into his coffee, fidgeting with the edge of a piece of paper she hadn’t noticed was there before. He steeled himself as his eyes snapped to hers. “Bells the doctor that was here last week, he gave me a prescription for you, in case you needed it. I didn’t know what the right thing to do was but if you think you’d like to get it filled, that’s up to you.” His words hit her in a rush, she didn’t remember how but out of nowhere the paper was in her hands. She glanced at it out of courtesy before sliding it back across the table towards him, his faced pinched as if awaiting a rebuff.

“I don’t want this.” The words felt thick across her tongue, the tar escaping up her chest making it hard to breathe again. She didn’t need to look at the piece of paper to know what it would do to her. This pain she shouldered was hers alone. The one thing to keep her from ever going down a road like this again. Whatever was on that page would replace the hot knives with empty spoons. No sustenance, no edge, just unfeeling endless fallacies. She felt her fingers curl under the edge of the table, gripping into a fist around the wood as her father continued.

“Bella, are you sure? I don’t see the inside of your mind of course, but you’re living day to day like you’re the walking dead. You don’t talk to your friends, you don’t talk to your mother, you don’t talk to me—”

“We’re talking right now,” she tried to smile at her joke but it might have come off as more of a grimace. He raised a brow at her sarcasm and she tried not to think of all the emails from her mother sitting unanswered in her inbox.

“You know what I mean though, Bells. I love ya kid, but I think you need to reach out to people or think about taking that prescription. You should talk to Leah!” He rushed out the last sentence like he’d had it stored away for future use for a while.

“Leah Clearwater?” She struggled to recall for a moment before the memories came back. Her, Leah, and Jacob, sitting on the beach together digging holes and throwing sloppy sand at each other while their dads fished together on the weekends.

“Harry told me she went through something. . . similar to what you’re going through. She’s the one who rebuilt your truck for you, you could at least give her a call to say thank you.”

What could she possibly have gone through that would be similar to _this_ , Bella wondered. Her initial cynicism gave way to genuine curiosity, and for the first time all week she was thinking of something besides _him_. Charlie huffed, seeing that he wouldn’t get much more out of her, and left for work leaving her alone at the kitchen table.

She returned to her memories on the beach, happy memories for once, of her and Leah huddled close against each other sitting next to the tide pools, pointing out the strangest animal sightings to each other while Jake leaped from rock to rock, pulling up the occasional barnacle or sea star. She felt the ghost of a smile on her lips and grabbed her bag to head to school.

Bella settled into her first class, one she barely edged into on time after her morning with Charlie, and tried her best to focus on the lecture. Dissecting Act II of Hamlet unfortunately wasn’t enough to hold her attention and she felt herself being drawn deeper into darkness. She felt time bend twist again, leaving her floating in an extended limbo. It wasn’t until Jess called to her that she realized class was almost over. Their teacher opened the class up for a group activity to finish off her lecture and most the students were chatting about anything but the assignment at hand.

“Bella, you’re coming with us this weekend to La Push, right? You promised.” She pierced her in place with her guilt trip stare. She had promised. Back when her life was normal and not quite as shambolic.

“Yeah, come on, it’s going to be so fun!” Mike nudged her shoulder from the seat next to hers. “You should come out with us,” he sounded more sincere and less frat boy now, eyeing the dark circles that were no doubt taking up residence under her eyes. Maybe the nostalgia from this morning got to her but she felt compelled to return to the beach full of happy memories and warm friendships. Maybe if she returned to the scene she’d be able to remember what that felt like.

“Angela won’t take no for an answer anyway Bella, you know she’s going to force you to come with us.” She was trying to sound intimidating but Bella thought she heard a twinge of regret behind her words, though she didn’t understand where that could be coming from.

“Right,” Bella acquiesced, “Not like I have any other plans.” They both let out a nervous laugh at her cynical humor but took the win as the bell dismissed them and they went their separate ways to their next classes.

She spent the rest of the morning replaying Charlie’s words. There was no way he would play the prescription card unless he thought she was in a bad way. She felt ashamed for causing him so much worry. If she was going to pretend to be okay she needed to do a better job, at least pretend like she felt even remotely human even though she no longer knew what that looked like.

Lunch period came in a blink as time snapped back to normal around her. She almost cracked a smile at the irony. Now it was her carrying her human prop of tasteless food to a table full of friends not of her kind to convince them that she was normal. Angela was there, waiting to jump her about this weekend as promised.

“La Push, you’re coming.” She didn’t leave room for rebuttal as she poked her arm more forcefully than necessary.

“Of course, Ang. I already said I would,” she tried to sound like she used to but her voice rang hollow even to her own ears. She had a moment of panic in the middle of the packed cafeteria. What if that never came back? What if when he left, he took that version—the best version of her—with him? She gripped the edge of the table as the first genuine emotion since last week flashed through her—rage. The list of things he took from her was getting longer.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. She leaned into the only feeling he left her with: anger. The venomous energy made time pass swiftly until she was home alone again. She hunted for the prescription note, dropping her bag by the landing. Grabbing it from the table she shoved chairs out of her way on the way to her room, her vigor rocketing her up the stairs two at a time. Once at her desk, she examined the slip of paper with the word _Prozac_ scrawled across it. She huffed and tore the paper in two. For all he took from her, she was going to savor every last emotion she had left. Taking the pieces in hand, she ripped at the note until each letter was separated from the others, throwing their crumbs into the trashcan beneath her desk. Too agitated to sit in the house and do homework, she picked up her jacket and left her house on foot, not paying attention to where she was headed as she entered the forest. Reluctant to let go of her anger, she was afraid of where it would leave her without it. Trudging through the setting of her recent nightmares ought to continue feeding the fire, she figured.

It wasn’t until she slowed and paused at a downed tree covered in moss to sit for a minute that she recognized where she was. She took a deep breath of the forest air that was unchanged since she was here last, coming to grips with her supernatural realization. Exhaling, a laugh that wasn’t hers caught her off guard. Boisterous and wild, it ricocheted off trees until it came back to her even louder. She looked down at the hand clutching her chest and realized it was heaving in time to the bells of laughter echoing throughout the haunted forest.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you enjoy! I've worked...way too hard on this lol, more chapters to come. Check out my tumblr! https://its-always-sunny-in-forks.tumblr.com/tagged/beith


End file.
